The world smelled like smoke and silver.
When I woke, the Blood Moon was still high, bleeding light through the cracks in the roof.
The air itself felt alive, humming with power I couldn’t name.
Ronan was sitting beside the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed.
There was dried blood on his shirt. Not his, I hoped.
“Ronan?” My voice came out as a whisper.
He looked up instantly, eyes storm-gray and weary. “Don’t move.”
“Why?”
He lifted a hand, and I saw it, a faint shimmer, like light bending around me. A barrier. The air rippled when I reached toward it.
“What is this?”
“Protection,” he said quietly. “You passed out for hours. Your power kept flaring even while you slept. I had to contain it before you burned the hall to ash.”
Guilt twisted in my chest. “Did I hurt anyone?”
His
